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National Burrito Day

I wrote a poem comprised entirely of subject lines from SPAM emails I got this week. It’s a quick capture of my life in quarantine, maybe. Or, my longing for a burrito that I didn’t make myself.

National Burrito Day

Mostly its just nonsense which is OK right now, right?


“Make Salsa Not War” Photo by Victor Garcia on Unsplash

“Open” Photo by Mike Petrucci on Unsplash

” Burritos” Photo by Krzysztof Hepner on Unsplash

Emergency Escape Plan selected for Bending Genres Anthology

My short story, “Emergency Escape Plan” (originally published February 9, 2018 at Bending Genres) has been selected for the 2018 | 2019 Bending Genres Anthology edited by Robert Vaughan. This volume is a collection of 100 amazing authors (or…like…99 and then also me) and 250 pages of hybrid creative nonfiction, flash fiction and poetry.

It is available for purchase at Bending Genres Press: The Bending Genres Anthology 2018 – 2019: $19.95 (ships in Mid-March) 



Abby Burns and Ade Toke and Alina Stefanescu and Andrew Hahn and Andrew Stancek and Anne Summerfield and Babak Lakghomi and Ben Kline and Benjamin Niespodziany and Brad Rose and Brett Pribble and Brianne Kohl and Cameron Morse and Cathy Ulrich and Chad Lutz and Christine Baerbock and Christopher Bowen and Claire Polders and Constance Malloy and D.S. Maolalai and David Spicer and E. Kristin Anderson and Emily Bertholf and Emily Hoover and Eric Lewis and Erin Anderson and Francine Witte and Freda Epum and Gail Gauthier and Gale Acuff and Gay Degani and Gaynor Jones and Genia Blum and Georgiana Nelsen and Hanna Barry Black and Hannah Cohen and Heidi Neff and Hillary Leftwich and Howie Good and J. Marasa and J. Tarwood and Jacqueline Doyle and Jalayna Carter and James McAdams and Jan Saenz and Jane-Rebecca Cannarella and Jayne Martin and Jeff Porter and Jen Todhunter and Jenn Lee and Jennifer Vanderheyden and Jill Talbot and John Brantingham and John Gray and Jonathan Riccio and Jose Aseguero and Joshua Baker and Jules Archer and Kaj Tanaka and Karen Schauber and Kate Murfett and Katherine Gleason and Kathryn de Lancellotti and Kathryn Kulpa and Kim Magowan and Kirsten Kaschock and BG-Anthology-BackKristen Havens and Kristin Tenor and Kristina Ten and L. Mari Harris and Laura Heckel and Lauren Busser and Lee Patterson and Len Kuntz and Lucinda Kempe and Lucy Zhang and Luke Johnson and Martha Kaplan and Mary Thompson and Matthew Dexter and Meg Pokrass and Michael Grant Smith and Michelle Ko and Michelle Ross and Nancy Iannucci and Nancy Mitchell and Nancy Stohlman and Pique Allens and Rachel Laverdiere and Rachel Tanner and Riham Adly and Robert Scotellaro and Rogan Kelly and Ruth Ticktin and Ryan Skaryd and S. Leavesly and Sam Rasnake and Samina Hadi-Tabassum and Sara Comito and Sara Kuntsler and Sherre Vernon and Shome Dasgupta and Shoshauna Shy and Steven John and Suvi Mahonen and Tara Campbell and Thomas Ferriello and Timothy Liu and Tom Block and Tommy Dean and Vox Populi and Wendy Chirikos and Wendy Oleson and William Soldan and Woody Woodger



The bullet is a seed born of human tissue.

It grows like a weed in clumps, in clips, in high capacity magazines.

The Montana Gold 55 grain full metal jacket, a .22 caliber bullet, is an annual. Designed for small caliber high velocity firearms like the AR-15, it is wind-pollinated.

The fields of your community are germinated by seeds grown far away.

The fruit of these seeds will exceed supersonic speed at 500 yards. They fire in both semi-automatic and fully automatic use — at an outdoor concert, for instance, or 3rd period study hall.

Hear the tink as seeds hit the concrete walls of a cafeteria, a school desk, or the metal arms of the monkey bars. Hear the sighs as they settle in and plant themselves at your feet.


Photo Attribution:

“Dandelions” by Subash BGK is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 

Romeo Gleeting

“I told him to leave me alone. I didn’t even have a voice yet and I said it. My voice was nothing but a whistle coming from the old radiator heater along the big dusty windows. But, still, I said it. I bit my thumb at him. Every silent moment, he whispered my name. A Romeo crooning to Juliet, “You fucking pig.””

Romeo Gleeting

When She Met Him by Brianne M. Kohl

Jellyfish Review

When She Met Him

She was fifteen when she met him.

She was born, red-faced screaming into this world, when she met him.

She could hardly breathe when she met him.

She was seven, she was fifty-four, she was seventy-two when she met him.

She was a wife and a mother of four – almost thirty-seven years old, unable to sleep, a little overweight, unable to pinpoint the exact moment when those deep wrinkles appeared on her face but he brushed a gentle finger over her furrows and told her she was beautiful when she met him.

She was on the playground, hanging upside down on the monkey bars when she met him.

She was a Playboy Bunny, a photographer, a secretary at a talent agency when she met him.

She was desperately looking for a mentor when she met him.

She was a hostess in the restaurant he co-owned, a kitschy…

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